Berserker ejected prana violently behind her as she closed the gap between herself and Archer. She was not so much running as hovering, her feet barely touching the ground as she kicked off trees and branches, accelerating further.
The main cause of her increase in speed was her Noble Phantasm - the
Bridal Chest
Maiden's Chastity
.
It is not simply a weapon for bludgeoning the enemy; if anything, that is a secondary use. The true ability of her Noble Phantasm is to absorb prana. In any Holy Grail War - ruthless struggles between Servants and magi - converted prana will end up dispersed all over the place, eventually dissipating into the atmosphere.
Her Noble Phantasm, the 'heart' of Frankenstein's monster, holds the ability to absorb excess prana. This amassed energy can then flow through Berserker's heart and into her Magic Circuits, even allowing her to emulate a Prana Burst. Of course, it is not an all-powerful weapon - but having taken form as the Servant Berserker, one would have been hard-pressed to find a more convenient weapon. For a class known for sapping prana reserves dry in short order when fully active, this Noble Phantasm allows her to fight on like a perpetual motion engine.
She might appear prone to senseless charges, but Berserker was actually given a solid reason why she ought to aim at the Archer of the Red. Just now, before Rider was hit in the shoulder by that arrow, Berserker was telepathically contacted.
'Listen carefully. I shall deal with the enemy's arrows as well as Rider. Make all due haste towards the opposing Archer.'
Berserker moaned in disagreement. That wouldn't work - nothing worked against Rider.
'My arrows will prove to be the exception. Confronting him directly may be somewhat beyond me - but please, place your trust in me.'
Berserker did not protest further. She had no choices left to begin with; for now, she might as well do as Archer said.
The instant Archer's arrow pierced Rider's shoulder, Berserker ran forth without hesitation.
"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!"
Berserker roared as she raged and bound forward.
Her goal - the sly marksman hiding and taking aim in the dark. She will drag them out under the moon's light, and cave their head in...!
* * *
The Archer of the Black, standing atop the thick walls of the Fortress of Millennia, felt relieved when his arrows pierced Rider as expected.
"Master, please have Saber retreat. There is nothing he can do against Rider."
"Very well... I'll let Grandfather know."
Soon after Fiore contacted Darnic, Saber turned into Spirit Form and disappeared.
They have prevented the worst; his Noble Phantasm did not fully activate. There is a chance that his identity has not been exposed. However, the cost has been too great.
The Command Spells - the right to absolute commands - is not simply for the use of enforcing orders. With the enormous prana contained by the Spells, it is possible to utilize a number of miraculous powers. And yet, they have just forfeited two. Most likely, there is only one Command Spell remaining on Gordes.
"I fear further ambushes, Master... you should retreat as well. Summon me with a Command Spell if you have urgent need."
Fiore tilted her head gracefully and replied.
"I understand, Archer... good luck."
She looked pale and very lost. Archer put on a gentle smile to reassure her.
"It is going to be all right, Fiore. I am your Servant, after all."
Fiore left, and Archer turned his eyes to the depths of the great forest - towards the enemy Rider and Archer. He drew his bow and took aim at Rider, letting all thoughts become oblivion and devoting himself entirely to the bow. The form the bowman took was utter perfection, as exquisite as the stars in the sky.
After all... this man, gentle like a calm sea, is the most famous archer in the world. Every arrow he lets fly is as swift as a shooting star.
* * *
"You dimwit. Have you not even the presence of mind to realize the most opportune time to release Saber's Noble Phantasm?"
Gordes could only hang his head, unable to argue against Darnic's cold words. Shame, despair, anger - all these emotions and more mixed together into a cocktail that permeated his heart and mind.
As soon as Darnic received Archer's urgent message, he immediately went to Gordes and forced him to use another Command Spell. Without Archer's warning - that "Saber's Noble Phantasm will not work against Rider" - Saber would have disclosed his true name for the sake of a meaningless attack.
"Two Command Spells... all that you have managed to accomplish is waste two Command Spells. And that was still a far better choice than revealing Saber's true name."
Their strategy revolves around maintaining Saber's secrecy until it becomes a necessity to release his Noble Phantasm. It was Darnic's decision that they must keep hidden Siegfried's one and only, yet highly public, weak point until Assassin and its Presence Concealment ability is removed from play.
They almost lost everything due to Gordes' uncontrolled actions. The Rider of the Red might have obtained Saber's true name. Even if he had not, whatever Rider had observed could give clues to the opposing camp as to who Saber was. The possibility that Saber had been compromised was high.
"Have Saber take form here."
"..."
Wordlessly, Gordes let Saber materialize next to him. Saber knelt respectfully before Gordes and Darnic.
"Be at ease, Saber. I only wish to ask you this: did the enemy Rider perceive your true name?"
"Answer him, Saber..."
Taking Gordes' words as approval, Saber spoke.
"I did not completely release my Noble Phantasm. It is not impossible for him to make a conjecture based on my appearance and my Armor, but..."
"...you believe the possibility to be low."
Saber nodded. Darnic sighed loudly.
"However, the possibility still exists... at the very least, we should have someone guarding your back at all times from here on."
After some thought, Darnic decided on Rider. Archer is acting commander and must give orders and directions. Their king, Lancer; Berserker; Caster; all are poor choices. Assassin has yet to appear. As such, the unfettered Rider is the best choice for standing next to Saber on the front line.
'Lord Darnic, if I may...'
A voice called out while Darnic was in deep in thought. Caster had spoke him via telepathy.
'What is it?'
'The homunculus I have been searching for... it seems Rider is leading it out in an attempt to escape. That homunculus is a highly valuable resource. I would like to have it back if possible...'
'What...?'
Darnic was bewildered by Rider's unprecedented act. Running away with a homunculus? Even outright betrayal would be easier to comprehend.
'I do not know why, but the homunculus...'
'Why is it so valuable?'
'He is a possible candidate for the core.'
'Oh? In that case... I will send a Servant after them.'
Greatly appreciated, came Caster's parting words. Darnic immediately ordered the idle Gordes to pursue Rider with Saber and bring back the homunculus. If they are fortunate, and it can be used as the 'core' as Caster suggested, then they should secure it. While obviously displeased by the triviality of the task, Gordes dared not go against the orders of the family head and began to track down the pair.
Certainly, the homunculus' escape was a shocking development. Who would have imagined that a weak prana provider - not even a combat model - could manage to destroy the containment glass with thaumaturgy? But it is only a homunculus. It can accomplish nothing by itself. Besides, it is physically defective. The homunculi hold no illusions regarding that. Letting it run off makes little difference.
In this case, however... they must retrieve it even if they have to use a Servant.
Yet why was Rider helping this homunculus escape to begin with? He certainly could not be planning to escape himself. He is a Servant; cut his prana lines and he will be reduced to the floundering familiar that he is, unable to survive on his own.
Darnic could not understand what Rider was doing at all. Was he trying to save the homunculus? How? Did he truly believe such a piece of rubbish could ever blend into the normal world...?
To the magus who had lived for over a century, this was utterly incomprehensible.
* * *
The wielder of the sword, of the spear, of madness, of thaumaturgy, of assassination - Servants are given a variety of classes. However, only the wielder of the bow possesses a hidden 'strength'.
In fact, it is a technique that anyone who lives by the bow will certainly obtain. It is an authority that they naturally possess, regardless of classes or skills. Simply put: the stronger the draw, the stronger the shot. Furthermore, the bow wielded by the Archer of the Red comes from the Goddess of the Hunt herself. By praying, by aiming, by drawing the bow with every ounce of strength in her body, drawing beyond all limits - it can strike with the force of gods.
All men possess the original sin for which even saints must answer for. However, it is an unconscious, instinctive act of all beasts. People call this sin 'to hunt'... and to her, the bow and the arrow are the tools to enact it.
She is a master of the hunt, born by the grace of Artemis. Her skill with the bow is divine, her fleet form unreachable by any man's dash. She is Atalanta - the greatest huntress of Greek mythology.
Now, she is not drawing her bow to the level of strength she had before. Instead, she prioritized speed. The issue was how quickly she could nock, draw and release.
The Berserker of the Black, unlike Saber, was not protected; not by divine powers, or demonic ones, or something else besides. Every shot she fires will pierce.
"Fool... have you gone completely mad?"
Archer allowed herself some aimless words as Berserker continued to approach. After all, no matter how faster Berserker could run, there was still a significant distance between them. Only with the support of a Command Spell would she be close in instantly. The closer Berserker came, the closer she drew to her own death.
"You will pay for your rashness..."
Archer's aim was already fixed. A bow is not aimed with one's hands but with one's senses. No matter how agile her prey is, her arrow will go through its heart.
"...in blood!"
The arrow she released was painted black, the better to erase all chances of detection in a night battle. Not to mention that it travelled faster than sound. It would only take an instant for her to see the arrow coming out of her prey's chest, and it would be all over.
But...
That... can't...
Finally, the Archer of the Red understood. She was forced to realize. In the Great Holy Grail War, there are two Servants in each class. Thus - the opposing camp could possess an Archer on the same level of skill as her.
My arrow was shot down...?!
Archer lost herself for a moment at this unbelievable event. If Berserker had dodged it, she would have accepted it; as a hunter, it was hardly rare for prey to suddenly sit down. If Berserker had counter-attacked, she would have understood; as a hunter, it was only natural that prey you aim to kill would respond in kind.
However, it was not coincidence that her arrow was intercepted. It was not done by the prey in question. No, it came from a third party removed from the hunt entirely. It could only have been the Archer of the Black.
"How is this possible...?!"
Archer had never felt so humiliated. How could my own shot be knocked aside by someone else's...?!
"...oooooooooaaaaaaaaaahh!"
"Curse it, it's fast...!"
She silenced all thoughts of shame within her mind. Right now, she must fell the approaching Berserker. In place of artistry and technique, she chose a simple barrage for her next attack. Three arrows appeared instantly in her hand and she took aim at Berserker. Her arrows were not Noble Phantasms; they had no special functions such as independently tracking the enemy. In other words, she aimed for victory through quantity rather than quality.
Of course, any one of these arrows finding its mark would mean defeat for the enemy. The three arrows she drew back were aimed at Berserker's chest, head and leg - all vital points - with precision. Even if the first barrage did not end Berserker, if they could slow her while Archer drew again... With her preparations perfected and all possibilities of defeat eliminated, the huntress released her arrows.
Unfortunately, 'perfection' is but an apparition. Her mind so firmly believed that she was in perfect form but, turned on its head, her premature counter showed only her fear of defeat.
"Gaaaaaah!"
Berserker intercepted only one of the arrows as the other two landed. Arrows pierced her leg and chest, but she hardly reacted. After all, she is Frankenstein's homunculus, an artificial creation; she can control her own pain receptors with ease. As long as the damage does not interfere with her body's operation, she cannot be slowed - let alone stopped.
"Hmph..."
In an instant, the Archer of the Red decided to abandon the fight. A prouder Heroic Spirit would consider standing their ground and fighting for supremacy, and Archer was still confident that she could defeat Berserker. But she is a beast, and to her, pride is as worthless as the carrion fed to the wolves. She decided to retreat without hesitation. The objective of this skirmish was only to support Berserker. Said task having ended, there was no reason for her to stay.
She did not worry about Rider; he certainly had his own avenues of retreat. Shouldering her bow, she declared to the Berserker of the Black.
"We shall meet again, mad warrior..."
She turned around and dashed forth. Seeing no more attacks coming from range, Berserker pursued with all her might.
However, Atalanta is famous for being the most fleet of foot in the Greek myths. Every suitor attracted to her savage beauty had to complete in a footrace with her, hoping to win and take her as wife, but each were overtaken by her nimble legs and shot to death. Not even the prana support of the Bridal Chest can hope to fill the gulf between their physical capabilities. The Archer of the Red quickly disappeared from Berserker's view. She wandered around ruefully for a while before admitting that she had escaped, moaning with displeasure. Of course, her howling would not bring her back; Berserker gave up the chase and quickly retreated.
Berserker ejected prana violently behind her as she closed the gap between herself and Archer. She was not so much running as hovering, her feet barely touching the ground as she kicked off trees and branches, accelerating further.
The main cause of her increase in speed was her Noble Phantasm - the
Bridal Chest
Maiden's Chastity
.
It is not simply a weapon for bludgeoning the enemy; if anything, that is a secondary use. The true ability of her Noble Phantasm is to absorb prana. In any Holy Grail War - ruthless struggles between Servants and magi - converted prana will end up dispersed all over the place, eventually dissipating into the atmosphere.
Her Noble Phantasm, the 'heart' of Frankenstein's monster, holds the ability to absorb excess prana. This amassed energy can then flow through Berserker's heart and into her Magic Circuits, even allowing her to emulate a Prana Burst. Of course, it is not an all-powerful weapon - but having taken form as the Servant Berserker, one would have been hard-pressed to find a more convenient weapon. For a class known for sapping prana reserves dry in short order when fully active, this Noble Phantasm allows her to fight on like a perpetual motion engine.
She might appear prone to senseless charges, but Berserker was actually given a solid reason why she ought to aim at the Archer of the Red. Just now, before Rider was hit in the shoulder by that arrow, Berserker was telepathically contacted.
'Listen carefully. I shall deal with the enemy's arrows as well as Rider. Make all due haste towards the opposing Archer.'
Berserker moaned in disagreement. That wouldn't work - nothing worked against Rider.
'My arrows will prove to be the exception. Confronting him directly may be somewhat beyond me - but please, place your trust in me.'
Berserker did not protest further. She had no choices left to begin with; for now, she might as well do as Archer said.
The instant Archer's arrow pierced Rider's shoulder, Berserker ran forth without hesitation.
"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!"
Berserker roared as she raged and bound forward.
Her goal - the sly marksman hiding and taking aim in the dark. She will drag them out under the moon's light, and cave their head in...!
* * *
The Archer of the Black, standing atop the thick walls of the Fortress of Millennia, felt relieved when his arrows pierced Rider as expected.
"Master, please have Saber retreat. There is nothing he can do against Rider."
"Very well... I'll let Grandfather know."
Soon after Fiore contacted Darnic, Saber turned into Spirit Form and disappeared.
They have prevented the worst; his Noble Phantasm did not fully activate. There is a chance that his identity has not been exposed. However, the cost has been too great.
The Command Spells - the right to absolute commands - is not simply for the use of enforcing orders. With the enormous prana contained by the Spells, it is possible to utilize a number of miraculous powers. And yet, they have just forfeited two. Most likely, there is only one Command Spell remaining on Gordes.
"I fear further ambushes, Master... you should retreat as well. Summon me with a Command Spell if you have urgent need."
Fiore tilted her head gracefully and replied.
"I understand, Archer... good luck."
She looked pale and very lost. Archer put on a gentle smile to reassure her.
"It is going to be all right, Fiore. I am your Servant, after all."
Fiore left, and Archer turned his eyes to the depths of the great forest - towards the enemy Rider and Archer. He drew his bow and took aim at Rider, letting all thoughts become oblivion and devoting himself entirely to the bow. The form the bowman took was utter perfection, as exquisite as the stars in the sky.
After all... this man, gentle like a calm sea, is the most famous archer in the world. Every arrow he lets fly is as swift as a shooting star.
* * *
"You dimwit. Have you not even the presence of mind to realize the most opportune time to release Saber's Noble Phantasm?"
Gordes could only hang his head, unable to argue against Darnic's cold words. Shame, despair, anger - all these emotions and more mixed together into a cocktail that permeated his heart and mind.
As soon as Darnic received Archer's urgent message, he immediately went to Gordes and forced him to use another Command Spell. Without Archer's warning - that "Saber's Noble Phantasm will not work against Rider" - Saber would have disclosed his true name for the sake of a meaningless attack.
"Two Command Spells... all that you have managed to accomplish is waste two Command Spells. And that was still a far better choice than revealing Saber's true name."
Their strategy revolves around maintaining Saber's secrecy until it becomes a necessity to release his Noble Phantasm. It was Darnic's decision that they must keep hidden Siegfried's one and only, yet highly public, weak point until Assassin and its Presence Concealment ability is removed from play.
They almost lost everything due to Gordes' uncontrolled actions. The Rider of the Red might have obtained Saber's true name. Even if he had not, whatever Rider had observed could give clues to the opposing camp as to who Saber was. The possibility that Saber had been compromised was high.
"Have Saber take form here."
"..."
Wordlessly, Gordes let Saber materialize next to him. Saber knelt respectfully before Gordes and Darnic.
"Be at ease, Saber. I only wish to ask you this: did the enemy Rider perceive your true name?"
"Answer him, Saber..."
Taking Gordes' words as approval, Saber spoke.
"I did not completely release my Noble Phantasm. It is not impossible for him to make a conjecture based on my appearance and my Armor, but..."
"...you believe the possibility to be low."
Saber nodded. Darnic sighed loudly.
"However, the possibility still exists... at the very least, we should have someone guarding your back at all times from here on."
After some thought, Darnic decided on Rider. Archer is acting commander and must give orders and directions. Their king, Lancer; Berserker; Caster; all are poor choices. Assassin has yet to appear. As such, the unfettered Rider is the best choice for standing next to Saber on the front line.
'Lord Darnic, if I may...'
A voice called out while Darnic was in deep in thought. Caster had spoke him via telepathy.
'What is it?'
'The homunculus I have been searching for... it seems Rider is leading it out in an attempt to escape. That homunculus is a highly valuable resource. I would like to have it back if possible...'
'What...?'
Darnic was bewildered by Rider's unprecedented act. Running away with a homunculus? Even outright betrayal would be easier to comprehend.
'I do not know why, but the homunculus...'
'Why is it so valuable?'
'He is a possible candidate for the core.'
'Oh? In that case... I will send a Servant after them.'
Greatly appreciated, came Caster's parting words. Darnic immediately ordered the idle Gordes to pursue Rider with Saber and bring back the homunculus. If they are fortunate, and it can be used as the 'core' as Caster suggested, then they should secure it. While obviously displeased by the triviality of the task, Gordes dared not go against the orders of the family head and began to track down the pair.
Certainly, the homunculus' escape was a shocking development. Who would have imagined that a weak prana provider - not even a combat model - could manage to destroy the containment glass with thaumaturgy? But it is only a homunculus. It can accomplish nothing by itself. Besides, it is physically defective. The homunculi hold no illusions regarding that. Letting it run off makes little difference.
In this case, however... they must retrieve it even if they have to use a Servant.
Yet why was Rider helping this homunculus escape to begin with? He certainly could not be planning to escape himself. He is a Servant; cut his prana lines and he will be reduced to the floundering familiar that he is, unable to survive on his own.
Darnic could not understand what Rider was doing at all. Was he trying to save the homunculus? How? Did he truly believe such a piece of rubbish could ever blend into the normal world...?
To the magus who had lived for over a century, this was utterly incomprehensible.
* * *
The wielder of the sword, of the spear, of madness, of thaumaturgy, of assassination - Servants are given a variety of classes. However, only the wielder of the bow possesses a hidden 'strength'.
In fact, it is a technique that anyone who lives by the bow will certainly obtain. It is an authority that they naturally possess, regardless of classes or skills. Simply put: the stronger the draw, the stronger the shot. Furthermore, the bow wielded by the Archer of the Red comes from the Goddess of the Hunt herself. By praying, by aiming, by drawing the bow with every ounce of strength in her body, drawing beyond all limits - it can strike with the force of gods.
All men possess the original sin for which even saints must answer for. However, it is an unconscious, instinctive act of all beasts. People call this sin 'to hunt'... and to her, the bow and the arrow are the tools to enact it.
She is a master of the hunt, born by the grace of Artemis. Her skill with the bow is divine, her fleet form unreachable by any man's dash. She is Atalanta - the greatest huntress of Greek mythology.
Now, she is not drawing her bow to the level of strength she had before. Instead, she prioritized speed. The issue was how quickly she could nock, draw and release.
The Berserker of the Black, unlike Saber, was not protected; not by divine powers, or demonic ones, or something else besides. Every shot she fires will pierce.
"Fool... have you gone completely mad?"
Archer allowed herself some aimless words as Berserker continued to approach. After all, no matter how faster Berserker could run, there was still a significant distance between them. Only with the support of a Command Spell would she be close in instantly. The closer Berserker came, the closer she drew to her own death.
"You will pay for your rashness..."
Archer's aim was already fixed. A bow is not aimed with one's hands but with one's senses. No matter how agile her prey is, her arrow will go through its heart.
"...in blood!"
The arrow she released was painted black, the better to erase all chances of detection in a night battle. Not to mention that it travelled faster than sound. It would only take an instant for her to see the arrow coming out of her prey's chest, and it would be all over.
But...
That... can't...
Finally, the Archer of the Red understood. She was forced to realize. In the Great Holy Grail War, there are two Servants in each class. Thus - the opposing camp could possess an Archer on the same level of skill as her.
My arrow was shot down...?!
Archer lost herself for a moment at this unbelievable event. If Berserker had dodged it, she would have accepted it; as a hunter, it was hardly rare for prey to suddenly sit down. If Berserker had counter-attacked, she would have understood; as a hunter, it was only natural that prey you aim to kill would respond in kind.
However, it was not coincidence that her arrow was intercepted. It was not done by the prey in question. No, it came from a third party removed from the hunt entirely. It could only have been the Archer of the Black.
"How is this possible...?!"
Archer had never felt so humiliated. How could my own shot be knocked aside by someone else's...?!
"...oooooooooaaaaaaaaaahh!"
"Curse it, it's fast...!"
She silenced all thoughts of shame within her mind. Right now, she must fell the approaching Berserker. In place of artistry and technique, she chose a simple barrage for her next attack. Three arrows appeared instantly in her hand and she took aim at Berserker. Her arrows were not Noble Phantasms; they had no special functions such as independently tracking the enemy. In other words, she aimed for victory through quantity rather than quality.
Of course, any one of these arrows finding its mark would mean defeat for the enemy. The three arrows she drew back were aimed at Berserker's chest, head and leg - all vital points - with precision. Even if the first barrage did not end Berserker, if they could slow her while Archer drew again... With her preparations perfected and all possibilities of defeat eliminated, the huntress released her arrows.
Unfortunately, 'perfection' is but an apparition. Her mind so firmly believed that she was in perfect form but, turned on its head, her premature counter showed only her fear of defeat.
"Gaaaaaah!"
Berserker intercepted only one of the arrows as the other two landed. Arrows pierced her leg and chest, but she hardly reacted. After all, she is Frankenstein's homunculus, an artificial creation; she can control her own pain receptors with ease. As long as the damage does not interfere with her body's operation, she cannot be slowed - let alone stopped.
"Hmph..."
In an instant, the Archer of the Red decided to abandon the fight. A prouder Heroic Spirit would consider standing their ground and fighting for supremacy, and Archer was still confident that she could defeat Berserker. But she is a beast, and to her, pride is as worthless as the carrion fed to the wolves. She decided to retreat without hesitation. The objective of this skirmish was only to support Berserker. Said task having ended, there was no reason for her to stay.
She did not worry about Rider; he certainly had his own avenues of retreat. Shouldering her bow, she declared to the Berserker of the Black.
"We shall meet again, mad warrior..."
She turned around and dashed forth. Seeing no more attacks coming from range, Berserker pursued with all her might.
However, Atalanta is famous for being the most fleet of foot in the Greek myths. Every suitor attracted to her savage beauty had to complete in a footrace with her, hoping to win and take her as wife, but each were overtaken by her nimble legs and shot to death. Not even the prana support of the Bridal Chest can hope to fill the gulf between their physical capabilities. The Archer of the Red quickly disappeared from Berserker's view. She wandered around ruefully for a while before admitting that she had escaped, moaning with displeasure. Of course, her howling would not bring her back; Berserker gave up the chase and quickly retreated.
